A Moment of Clarity

I stayed quiet last week while my daughter was embraced by her addiction.  I kept the door closed.  I worked on keeping distant in all parts of my life.  I mentally stayed back and just watched, though physically I was interacting, I wasn't really mentally invested.  Even at work, I was going through the motions trying not to think of the negative.  Trying to clear my mind so that I could, hopefully, be better able to see the good around me because when my daughter is drinking, nothing looks good.  I get bombarded with thoughts about finding her dead, seeing other people's children living their lives and resenting it--I am escorted by resentment and anger everywhere I go and I am sick of that feeling. 

One day at work, I needed to make some copies, so I went into the faculty workroom where the copy machine resides.  There was another teacher making copies when I went in.  I like her. She is direct, opinionated, and funny. I said, 'Hi.'  She said, 'Hi. I won't be long.'  "Don't worry, I'm not in a hurry."   We did the usually small talk about how fast the year went, how much there still is to do, and how the kids have already begun to act like it's summer break.  That got onto the topic of parents. Her eyes widened for a second as the emotions of her current issue with a student moved front and center in her mind.  She told me that she was having difficulty with a parent concerning their child's work.  Bottom line, the parent does everything for the child.  She organizes his homework, does his homework, does his projects, etc.  The parent emails this teacher daily.  Currently, she is emailing the teacher about the notes that are due with this research project that the class was assigned.  The parent is insisting that he has the notes and handed them in.  The teacher said that he hasn't and still needs to hand them in.  The parent is insisting that the child did.  The teacher says that he didn't.  The teacher confided in me that she knows where the student put the notes.  They are in a folder with the original paper work.  She knows this because she looked for the notes herself and found them.  She did not tell the parent that she knows where the notes are.  She told me that this student does very little work on his own.  That the mother is doing everything for him and she (the teacher) wanted him to put forth the effort to find the notes on his own and hand them in.  The teacher commented that the sad thing is the student is capable, just lazy, because the mother enables him so much.  She said, " He is so enabled that he is disabled. And he's not the only student in my class who's parents enable their children by doing everything for them."

I was hoping that the light bulb that just flashed on in my head didn't show in some exaggerated expression on my face. When I'm having conversations with people, and something reminds me of my experience with addiction, I'm always afraid some comment of mine or some facial expression is going to give away my secret life of a mother who's child is struggling with addiction.  But, her statement about enabling so much that we disable, was a mental marker for me. It was another clarifying moment for me to help see my own situation clearer and understand all it all a little better. 

She finished her copying and I started mine, but I was copying more than just a math paper.  I was trying to copy her mental clarity and determination in my own mind about not enabling to disable.  She was so right.  I teach students who have documented mental and physical disabilities.  A lot of those students have a more hidden disability--enabling parents.  That is the one disability that a lot of, special and regular education students are developing.  Parents want students to have all A's. They want their child's school experience to be pristine--void of all failure.  They believe the facade of perfection is enough to get them through life blemish free.  I've even heard of parents contacting the instructors when their children get to college to negotiate grades and make excuses.  They are encasing their children in little glass houses that are destined to fracture and break.

In my own self-reflection, I know that I was not an enabler when they were growing up.  I know because I remember that knot in my stomach as I watched them leave the house knowing that life was getting ready to 'test' them.  I defended them against situations they were too young to handle (mostly from a stray parent who felt they had to fight a second grader's battles for them).  But in general, after teaching them the right and wrong of something, I stood by and watched them maneuver themselves through their individual obstacles.  I was there as supporter and defender, but not doer.  My daughter was more self-motivated than my son.  He did need more prodding and checking, she had everything organized and finished on her own.  To be honest, I was in awe at her ability to plan her day and what needed to be done.  I know she is still that person.  I know all of that amazing person she used to show the world is still within her.

So, now I'm back to the beginning.  Trying not to enable. Instead, standing by her, giving her the right and wrong of something and praying that the person she really is, the motivated, confident, gentle, resilient person at her core begins to wake up and take hold, again.  It may be a tough climb up that rabbit hole, but I know she can do it, once she remembers that she can.